To Live in Hearts
by Alixtii
Summary: “To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die.” – Clyde Campbell. Futurefic. Eleven years after "Chosen." Angst, slash, character death. WIP.
1. GilesSummers Mansion, Bath

**Title:** To Live in Hearts

**Author:** Rev. Alixtii O'Krul V, TRL of the Church of St. Jesu the Heretic, Discordian

**Rating:** R for slashy indulgences.

**Spoilers:** All of Buffy and Angel.

**Timeline:** Futurefic. Eleven years after "Chosen."

**Characters:** Faith, Dawn, Giles, Kennedy.

**Pairings:** F/K, with overtones of W/K and possibly F/X.

**Summary:** "To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die." – Clyde Campbell.

**Feedback:** Yes, please. Medium of exchange, y'know?

**Distribution:** Just tell me about it.

**Disclaimer:** There was once a man named Joss Whedon...

**Warnings:** Angst, slash, character death.

* * *

**Bath, England—May 2014**

_Ding-dong_. The doorbell's massive ring echoed all around her.

The door opened, slowly. Behind it, a prim-looking Englishwoman stared out. "Yes?"

"Name's Faith. Here to see the doctor."

The woman—maid? housekeeper? butler (could women even be butlers)? Faith had no idea what British (or even American, for that matter) people called their different servants—paused, then nodded. "She and Sir Rupert are expecting you."

She was led through the mansion's expansive hall and up it's impressive staircase, then through labyrinthine passageways to a small room on the building's third floor. The book, unsurprisingly, was lined with books and in the corner at a wooden desk Dawn Summers, Ph.D. was hunched over a book even Faith could recognize as the Tradescan Codex—it had caused too much grief in too many of their lives for Faith not to be able to identify it on sight. The fact that Dawn was reading it now didn't bode well.

"Faith," Dawn said, looking up."It's always good to see you. Although I'm sure you can appreciate that this is a hectic time of year for us."

"Yeah, it's apocalypse season. I dig that." Fortunately, the signs and portents pointed towards Cleveland escaping without an apocalypse this time around. Which had made Faith all the more certain that something terrible was going to happen, but Fr. Marcus had managed to convince her to make the trip anyway. There were two Slayers at the school this year, plus one of the girls was turning out to be a pretty bad-ass Wiccan, so they could probably handle themselves if the portents proved to be wrong and something did happen. No use worrying about it, anyway; it's not as if there was anything Faith could do from England.

"So have you seen my sister lately?"

"B? Yeah, she and I took out a hav'rok nest in NYC just last month. She seems to be doing well. A little prematurely grey, maybe, but when you've seen the world about to end more times than you can count on your fingers and toes? It'll do that to you."

Truth was, Faith had forgotten how young Buffy was. It was a shock seeing Dawn in front of her, looking so young at the age of twenty-six (well, twenty six years worth of human memories, anyway), and knowing that Buffy was only six years older. Those years had certainly taken their toll on the older Summers sister, and Faith wondered if her own only barely younger face showed the evidence of the same toll, or if she had managed to escape it as Dawn had. After all, Buffy had been the One—a responsibility Faith had never had to shoulder, thankfully.

"And Madeleine?"

"She's growing up fast. She pulled herself up on to my lap and began to read me The Cat in the Hat. She's smart, like her father." Suddenly, a terrible thought occurred to Faith. "Shit. She's not in that book, is she?"

"We're all in it, Faith," Dawn answered, somberly. "You, me, Buffy, the Immortal, Kennedy, even Andrew. That's why it's such a thorn in our sides."

"B's gonna be pissed when she finds out."

Dawn nodded. "I'm not exactly thrilled that my six-year old niece already has an entire destiny mapped out for her in a centuries old text, either. Unfortunately, the ancients never stopped to ask our opinions."

"Damned impolite of them, if you ask me," Faith said, then paused and looked at the codex. The page Dawn was open to wasn't even two-thirds of the way through the book. "It never stops, does it?"

Dawn said nothing, simply took off her reading glasses and set them down next to the codex. "Kennedy's already in the Green Bedroom, so you'll be in the Victorian Suite."

"Just give me a bed and a roof over my head, and I'm happy," said Faith, throwing her bag over her shoulder and following Dawn through the mansion's hallways. "Anyone else coming?"

"Shelia and Ira are arriving Tuesday night. Buffy's busy with an apocalypse in Salzburg, and. . . ." Dawn shrugged. "There's really no one else, even among the Slayers. They might have been there—"

"But they didn't really lose anything. I get it."

Dawn stopped suddenly, gestured to a door. "Here's your room. Dinner's at 6. If you need anything, come find Giles or me."

"If I don't get loss first," Faith said, entered the Victorian Suite, and began to unpack.

* * *

Dinner was a formal sort of thing, at a table long enough to seat the entirety of one of Faith's P.E. classes back at St. Clare's. Giles sat at the head, and when Faith finally found her way to the large ornate dining room, he was already flanked on either side by Dawn and Kennedy. Faith popped herself down next to Dawn just as the servants were about to serve the salad.

Kennedy nodded welcome to Faith, then began to pick at her salad. The girl had lost weight, but Faith couldn't blame her. If she had lost what Kennedy had lost, she didn't think she'd have much of an appetite around this time of year, either.

Not that Faith didn't miss them with every ounce of herself, as well.

Dinner was salmon in some type of butter-lemon sauce. Faith couldn't think of the last time she had salmon—had she ever had salmon? Not before Sunnydale, certainly. Maybe once or twice since the town—

Faith didn't complete the thought.

That anniversary was just around the corner, too. Along with the anniversary of Faith's first coma, and—the list went on. May as a month officially sucked. And by officially, she meant officially. Dawn had even inserted a line to that effect into the new edition of the Slayer's Handbook.

Faith was more of a cheeseburger and fries girl herself, although she had to admit the salmon was good. She supposed Dawn and Giles ate like this all the time now, that having the servants serve salad and then fish (or whatever) had become second nature to them. She had to smile at how things had changed. The Dawn she remembered had been a cheeseburger and fries girl, too.

Change was sometimes good. Madeleine, forty-five pounds of rambunctious Slayer spawn, was proof of that.

Change was bad sometimes, too—too much of the time. After all, wasn't that why Faith and Kennedy were there? Because change had robbed them of something? Something more valuable than words?

But it was May. And in Faith's experience, May was a month for change. Losing something, gaining something, and wondering if what was gained was worth what was lost. It hardly ever was, but that was the way the world went 'round.


	2. Watcher's Cemetery, Richmond

**Title:** To Live in Hearts (2/?)

**Author:** Rev. Alixtii O'Krul V, TRL of the Church of St. Jesu the Heretic, Discordian

**Rating:** R for slashy indulgences.

**Spoilers:** All of Buffy and Angel.

**Timeline:** Futurefic. Eleven years after " Chosen."

**Characters:** Faith, Dawn, Giles, Kennedy.

**Pairings:** F/K, with overtones of W/K and F/X.

**Summary:** "To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die." – Clyde Campbell.

**Author's Note:** Okay, the plotline in this chapter isn't exactly all that original. But there are other directions I want to go with this fic, and this is a necessary stepping stone.

**Feedback:** Yes, please. Medium of exchange, y'know?

**Distribution:** Just tell me about it.

**Disclaimer:** There was once a man named Joss Whedon...

**Warnings:** Angst, slash, character death.

* * *

**Richmond** **England**

Dawn had needed to go into London to take care of some business at the Council headquarters, and Faith had traveled with her. They both took the train to central London, then got on the Tube and went to their separate destinations: Dawn to Tottenham Court Road, Faith back out to the suburbs.

Faith remembered watching _The Hours_ with Robin so many years ago. (Good God, had it really been a decade? She wasn't sure if it had seemed shorter or longer than that.) The pastoral scene, where Woolf and her husband had gone to get away from the bustle of the city, it no longer existed. The local rugby field and the Watcher's Cemetery were really the only open spaces left in the town. It had been consumed by London.

Faith walked into the cemetery, the large Sunnydale cenotaph towering in front of her. Faith walked around it, and made her way towards the back of the cemetery. They would all visit the cemetery, together, in a few days, but Faith wanted the chance to be alone among the graves.

Faith had only been to this cemetery maybe a dozen times, tops, all post-Sunnydale, but every time she visited she went through the same routine, so she had no difficulty finding the tombstone she wanted. _Nikki Wood_, it read. _1952-1977. Beloved Mother._ Faith left a flower on the grave, if only for Robin's sake.

She spent longer at the next grave. _Kendra. 1979-1998. _Kendra had been the Slayer before Faith, struck down by Drusilla. It was Kendra who had passed the Slayer mantle on to Faith, whose death made Faith what she now was. How many times had Faith wondered how her life would have been different if Kendra had lived? Would she have lived her entire life on the streets of Boston, never needing to know that vampires existed? Or would she have found out anyway, perhaps by becoming one of Kakistos' random victims, and died without the Slayer strength to protect her self? Would Willow have cast the activation spell anyway, causing an older Faith to be Chosen with the other Potentials, just another Slayer among many?

Faith traced the inscription on the face of the stone. Just her name and her dates. No _Devoted Friend_ or _Beloved Daughter_, because she had had no friends and had not even known her parents. There wasn't even a last name upon the stone. She was simply the Slayer, the Chosen One, her entire life subsumed by that identity. And now that identity had passed on to Faith and a thousand other girls, and all that was left of Kendra was this simple grave.

Is that what Faith would leave behind, how she would be remembered? Who would mourn Faith's passing? Faith lingered in front of Kendra's stone, not wanting to move on, but at last she left a flower on the grave of the girl she had never known and continued through the graveyard.

She saw a lone figure standing in front of her last stop. Of course; Kennedy had had the same idea, to come today before the crowd would arrive on the true anniversary. She had probably taken an earlier train to arrive in London before Faith. Faith paused, unwilling to disturb the girl's solitude. After all, Kennedy had more right to be there than Faith had.

"Come on, Faith," Kennedy said, not taking her eyes off the sight in front of her. "It's okay."

Gingerly, Faith walked up and stood next to Kennedy. Compared to the simple Slayer graves, the joint tomb in front of them seemed almost extravagant. Buffy's doing, Faith knew. After Willow's spell provided Buffy with a loyal cadre of Slayers, the entire politics of the Council changed. Heck, that was the reason why Dawn had originally been given the job she now performed so capably.

_Willow Rosenberg_, the stone on the left proclaimed. _Alexander Harris_, read the one on the right. The dates on both stones were the same: _1981-2008_.

Faith had never met Kendra, and Nikki Wood had died before she was even born. But Faith knew Willow and Xander. Faith could remember holding a knife (_the _knife, the one the Mayor gave her) to Willow's throat; she could remember fucking Xander in a cheap motel room, then trying to strangle him a week later in the same room. She remembered traveling back to Sunnydale from L.A. with Willow, fighting alongside Xander as she watched a mad preacher gouged out his eye.

Gouge out his eye because Xander had thrown him self into danger, saving Kennedy's life. Now, Kennedy just stared at the two graves, silent, not even moving. Faith watched her out of the corner of her eye, wondering what was going through the girl's mind, and knowing that she was glad she didn't know.

Suddenly, Kennedy spoke. "He saved my life. Twice. The first time, he lost his eye. The second time he lost his life."

"He died a hero," Faith pointed out, knowing it wasn't enough. After all, Xander hadn't saved Kennedy's life only twice. He had saved her life, as well as Faith's and everyone else's, when he resuscitated Buffy during her battle with the Master. In truth, who knew how many times Xander had saved the world, just by standing next to Buffy and Willow and all the rest?

"He shouldn't have," Kennedy complained. "He should have let me die."

Faith didn't know what to say to that? Tell her it wasn't true? The thing is, she understood how Kennedy could feel that way.

"Then she would have lost you. She still might have gone dark."

Kennedy turned and looked at Faith, intent. "Do you really believe that?" she asked.

Faith recognized the desperate quality in Kennedy's voice. Kennedy didn't believe that, Faith realized, not really, but desperately wanted to, needed to, even. Needed to believe that Willow had loved her as desperately as she had Xander, that losing Kennedy would have been just as much a blow, spiraling her back into black-haired fury.

Because if that wasn't true, then it meant Willow had never really loved Kennedy. Not liked she had loved Xander. Not like she had loved Tara. So many years after both Tara and Willow died, their relationship still hung like some dark spectre needing to be exorcised.

"She loved you," Faith answered, although of course she couldn't know that for sure. "None of us ever doubted that." Although, of course, they all had.

Kennedy just looked at her, and Faith could see the need in the girl's eyes, the desperate need to believe. She put a comforting hand on Kennedy's shoulder, trying to think of something to say. Nothing came.

And then Kennedy collapsed into her arms. "If I died, he'd still have been able to bring her back," she managed to get out between sobs. "I wouldn't have had to kill her."

Faith held the weeping girl in her arms, trying to comfort her as best as she could. "Everything will be all right," she whispered, before kissing the younger Slayer just once on the forehead. "It'll be all right."

Although, of course, it wouldn't be.


	3. 99 Great Russell Street, London

**Title:** To Live in Hearts

**Author:** Rev. Alixtii O'Krul V, TRL of the Church of St. Jesu the Heretic, Discordian

**Rating:** R for slashy indulgences.

**Spoilers:** All of Buffy and Angel.

**Timeline:** Futurefic. Eleven years after " Chosen."

**Characters:** Faith, Dawn, Giles, Kennedy.

**Pairings:** F/K, with overtones of W/K and possibly F/X.

**Summary:** "To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die." – Clyde Campbell.

**Feedback:** Yes, please. Medium of exchange, y'know?

**Distribution:** Just tell me about it.

**Disclaimer:** There was once a man named Joss Whedon...

**A/N: **Thanks to a RL friend of a RL friend (and a virtual friend) who provided me with the location of Cork, Ireland.

**Warnings:** Angst, slash, character death.

* * *

**London** **England****—May 2014 **

Dawn just happened to look out the window of her office as Faith and Kennedy walked down Great Russell Street from Tottenham Court Road. Unless the two Slayers were on their way to visit the British Museum (which wasn't entirely impossible, as they did happen to have a collection of Japanes katanas on special exhibit), they were coming by to pick her up after her workday. She was about to put down her pen and file the report she had been working on so as not to keep them walking, but something made her stop and stare at the sight of them walking down the road. They seemed different, somehow. Maybe they were walking closer together?

They were both coming together from Willow and Xander's grave, presumably. Faith had come to London with Dawn (and Kennedy hadn't), so she could only suppose the two Slayers had met up in the Watcher's Cemetery it self. She was glad; Kennedy in particular needed someone to lean on. After all, she had been going steady with Willow for—Dawn did the mental math—five and a half years. Not to mention the part where she had been the one to actually _kill_ Willow. Dawn couldn't imagine to have to—well, she had never really loved anyone the way Kennedy had loved Willow, had she? So she certainly couldn't imagine having to strike down that lover and kill him after he went evil and tried to end the world for the third time.

Dawn shook her head. The fact that it was harder for her to imagine a man to which she'd be absolutely devoted than an a man repeatedly causing apocalypse? A sad commentary on her twenty-something life. She should be out living the good life while her looks still lasted instead of staying in an office running the oldest human organization on Earth, responsible for the lives of hundreds of girls all across the planet. Oh well, maybe she and the Slayers could hit one of the London pubs for a drink before returning to Bath.

She looked out the window; Faith and Kennedy were nowhere to be seen, which meant they had probably entered 99 Great Russell Street already and were waiting downstairs in Reception. She slipped on her jacket, handed the file to one of the secretaries, and began down the stairs to meet them.

"Faith, Kennedy. What a pleasant surprise," she said, pretending she was just finding out they were there for the first time. Up close, she could tell that Kennedy's eyes were red. That pub stop was definitely on the agenda—she figured the Slayer needed that drink even more than Dawn did her self.

Dawn frowned. It had been Kennedy hadn't completely recovered from Willow's death. Dawn understood that some part of her would never heal, that such scars were part of the burden of being a Slayer. But as Kennedy stood now, Dawn couldn't trust her enough to assign the woman to any major apocalypses—which meant the Council was deprived of one of its best trained, most experienced Slayers—probably _the_ best trained Slayer, next to Faith and Buffy. And while Dawn could wait for Kennedy to pull through at her own pace, the Tradescan Codex wouldn't. If they were interpreting the prophecies correctly, they'd need Kennedy, and they'd need her soon. The best Council estimates placed that particular apocalypse for three years hence—six at the most.

* * *

**London** **England****—March 2008 **

_"Giles, do you read this the way I do?" She handed the Codex to the older Watcher, watched him peruse the prophecy with a disturbed frown. _

_"I'm afraid that I do," he said at last. "_ _Lydia__?" _

_"Don't look at me," she answered. "You know very well that my Etruscan is rusty. Although I have to agree that what the Council translators have produced doesn't seem to bode well." She paused. "If this is as serious as we seem to think it is, perhaps we should consider alerting Roger of it." _

_Dawn shook her head. "It is serious, and that's precisely why I don't want Wyndam-Pryce in on it." _

_Giles took off his glasses and polished them before returning them to his face. "I must agree, __Lydia__. The situation as it stands is extremely delicate. We can't afford to drag it through Council bureaucracy." _

_Dawn looked to Giles. "Most of the artifacts that were foundcame from where?" _

_Giles glanced down at the file in front of him."_ _Erm_ _Egypt_ _Thebes__." _

_"Can we assume that'll be the focal point of the apocalypse?" _

_It was __Lydia__ who answered. "Based on the astral cycles, I would think that's a safe bet." _

_"The one good thing about the Sisterhood of Jhe: they're predictable," said Giles, picking up the prophecy and re-reading it, although he must have read it at least fifty times already. "Always follow the same pattern. The same rituals, celebrations, same brand of bloody eggnog. Everything's a sacrament." _

_"Except for the actual method of destruction," __Lydia__ corrected. "In that respect, every apocalypse is different." _

_"Last time they tried to open the Hellmouth," Dawn grumbled, crossing the conference room to pour her_ _self__ a brandy. "Seeing as how __Thebes__ and __Cleveland__ are on opposite sides of the planet, I don't think it requires a genius to figure they're up to something new." She paused, looking at the bottle of brandy in her hand. "You have any of that eggnog you were talking about?" _

_"We need your attention here, Dawn," said Giles. "And if you could pour me one while you're over there I'd appreciate it." _

_Dawn brought Giles' brandy back with her and handed it to me. "Willow is very clearly indicated as being present," she said, pointing to a passage in the codex. "Any reason why we shouldn't include her in the party?" _

_"I'd think the presence of these symbols would make the answer to that question 'a world of yes,'" said Giles, pointing to a series of Egyptian hieroglyphs. "The last time we saw them, __Willow__ went dark." _

_"Only because the Order of Osiris introduced a supernatural catalyst," argued Dawn. "She has control of her_ _self__ and her magicks." God, she hated the word "magick" with a k. She mentally cursed Alesiter Crowley to a thousand deaths in Es-Lazur. _

_"If it can be done once," __Lydia__ said, "it can be done again. He's right. It's too risky." _

_"It won't do us any good to fight against the prophecy. __Willow__'s going to be there one way or another. Either we can include her, or we can have her there as a random factor. Which do you think best?" _

_Giles seemed undecided. "_ _Lydia__?" _

_"She does seem to have a point, Rupert." _

_"What do we do, just tell her we're afraid she's going to go dark and then throw her into a battle situation." _

_"Of course not," Dawn said, finishing off the last of her brandy. "We don't tell her anything. I just watch, ready in case something does happen. The prophecy isn't clear—it might be nothing happens." _

_"Well, _something_ is going to happen," Giles said, and his glass was as empty as hers. "That much is clear." He paused. "You?" _

_"You've hardly clocked any field experience in the last three years, Giles. I'm in the best shape out of the three of us and you both know it. _

_"Very well. __Willow__, and thus Kennedy. Xander as well, if there's even the least chance of __Willow__ going dark. Your_ _self__ in command. Who else? Buffy? Faith? Some of the other Slayers?" _

_Dawn thought. "We need the group small enough we can manage the various factors. __Willow__, Kennedy, Xander, Buffy, Faith, me. The Immortal, I guess, if Buffy's going. As for anyone else—are Beatrice DeCosta and Kimberly Mason free?" _

_Lydia turned to her laptop, pushed a few buttons. "They're bothstationed in __Cork,_ _Ireland__. Which isn't due for an apocalypse this time 'round, best we can tell." _

_"Good," said Dawn. "Pull them. I need people I can trust." _

_"Very well," said Giles, writing down notes. "Thenine of you will take a group vacation to __Egypt__, completely separate from any official Council business. I'll contact Xander, see if there are any Slayers already stationed near __Thebes__. I'll contact Buffy with the travel arrangements. You return to __Italy__ in the morning?" Dawn nodded. "Be careful, Dawn. You were safe in bed the last time we dealt with one of the Sisterhood's apocalypses. They're a powerful foe, Dawn. Just be careful." _

_"I will, Giles. I always am." _

* * *

**A/N: **This takes place in my Watcher!Dawn universe, where Lydia lives through the Council explosion due to intervention of the Powers. Beatrice DeCosta and Kimberly Mason are Slayers with whom Faith and Dawn work in an earlier fic, "Confessions of a Teenage Watcher." 


	4. GilesSummers Mansion, Bath

**Title:** To Live in Hearts (4/?)

**Author:** Rev. Alixtii O'Krul V, TRL of the Church of St. Jesu the Heretic, Discordian

**Rating:** R for slashy indulgences.

**Spoilers:** All of Buffy and Angel.

**Timeline:** Futurefic. Eleven years after " Chosen."

**Characters:** Faith, Dawn, Giles, Kennedy. (In future chapters: Shelia, Ira, and Buffy as well, probably.)

**Pairings:** F/K, with overtones of W/K and possibly F/X.

**Summary:** "To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die." – Clyde Campbell.

**Feedback:** Yes, please. Medium of exchange, y'know?

**Distribution:** Just tell me about it.

**Disclaimer:** There was once a man named Joss Whedon...

**Warnings:** Angst, slash, character death.

* * *

**Bath** **England****—May 2014 **

Rupert Giles, K.C.M.G., tapped his fingers against the table impatiently as he perused the Tradescan Codex for the _n_th time. "What were you planning on serving for dinner, Lucy?" he asked idly, not looking up from the ancient text.

"Ham, sir, if that's all right."

"Our guests are Jewish, Lucy. We're going to have to give them a kosher meal."

"Thank the Lord you reminded me, sir," she said. "There's still time to plan a new meal. Do you think chicken would be okay, sir? Perhaps in a picante sauce?"

"Your chicken is delicious, Lucy," he assured the cook. "I'm sure it will be fine."

"Very good, sir." There was a pause, and then the servant spoke up again. "When do you suppose the mistress will return with them, sir?"

"Their flight is supposed to arrive at three o'clock," he told her, "and it's at least a 2-hour drive back from London. They'll probably get back just in time for dinner."

Lucy didn't say anything more and when he looked up, she was gone, leaving him alone with the codex. There wasn't any reason to be reading it, not really. Dawn was looking over it, correlating the data with the prophecies, and there wasn't any major events due any time soon. Certainly there wasn't any reason to reread this particular passage.

_Jhe sisterhood. Slayers. Watcher. Youth. Witch. Place of worship. The other. Life/death. Lovers. Transformation. Darkness. Burning. _(In the margin was a scrawled "_Apocalypse?_" in Dawn's handwriting.) _The world. Sovereign. Lovers. Life/death. Endings/beginnings. The world, _

If only the hybrid of Etruscan, Egyptian, and Sumerian the codex was written in used some type of consistent grammatical structure, it may have been easier to interpret the prophecy, to have seen the great tragedy coming. Well, the exact nature of the tragedy; it had been pretty clear to everybody involved that the prophecy hadn't been about ice cream and puppies.

Giles knew it was useless to second-guess their actions of six years ago, In retrospect, what the prophecy had been trying to say seemed so clear. But who could have guessed that "the other" had meant Xander, or that its presence next to "life/death" meant he would sacrifice his life to save Kennedy?

_Life/death_. The concept existed in virtually every culture, that of life and death locked together in an eternal cycle, although only a few languages actually had a word for it. Dawn preferred the proto-Bantu, _shanshu_, although what significance it held for her Giles had never really managed to figure out.

Based on the small amount of information they had, it would have been impossible to correctly decode the prophecy, but Giles refused to absolve him self of blame. It would have been too easy to accept that the past had been pre-destined, that things couldn't have worked out in any other way.

He refused to believe that. Well, that wasn't precisely correct. It wasn't that he necessarily believed in free will or being able to make one's destiny or any such stuff. He had seen too many prophecies fulfilled for that to be the case. It's just that he didn't believe the truth of predestination in any way mitigated guilt.

People deserved to suffer for their crimes. He didn't care if they had a traumatic childhood during which they had been sexually abused by alcoholic parents. He didn't care if they loss their soul and rose again with a demon in control. And he sure as hell didn't care if their actions had been foreseen in some prophecy somewhere.

It would be so easy to blame his failure on the prophecy. But it wasn't the prophecy's job to make sure that Willow and Xander didn't die. It wasn't the prophecy's responsibility to make sure Kennedy didn't lose her lover. And the prophecy didn't have to share a life with the young woman he had placed in command to watch as those events happened, look her in the eyes every morning. He should have been there. He should have sent more Slayers. Shouldn't have sent Xander. Told Willow to go to the other side of the planet and hide under a rock somewhere.

Never mind that the prophecy would have found a way to fulfill it self.

The prophecy was what it was. It had been Giles' job to protect the children, and he had failed. That was the way it was, too.

He shut the codex. That had been quite enough self-pitying. They had two guests, and soon would have two more. Across the world, hundreds of Slayers were engaged in a dozen different apocalypses. (And Eliot had said April was the cruelest month…didn't he have any idea what May brought each year? Certainly not flowers.) There was so much he could be doing instead of staring at a prophecy which had been fulfilled a half-dozen years past.

Willow and Xander were dead. And as much as he might at times wish otherwise, nothing was going to change that.

* * *

Faith ran into Kennedy in the library—well, the largest of the many rooms in the Giles-Summers mansion which could fall under that classification, considering Faith doubted greatly whether there was a single room in the large house that wasn't full of books. Some of the servants' quarters, possibly.

Faith glanced at the cover of the book Kennedy was reading. Something about Tantric sex. At least it wasn't the damned Tradescan Codex—Faith had caught Giles reading it when she had stopped by the kitchens to steal a snack. She leaned over the back of Kennedy's chair, stealing a glance at the pages over Kennedy's shoulder. "Wow," she said. "Is that even possible?"

"I can do it," Kennedy said as she turned to the page. "I imagine you could, too. Someone not a Slayer? Probably'd not be flexible enough."

"Right," said Faith, suddenly uncomfortable. What do you say after all that? She drifted over to the wall and began to browse the shelves. It was probably too much to hope to find a spy novel?

"Faith," Kennedy said uncertainly from behind her book, "about the other day."

"Yes?" She remembered it quite clearly: Kennedy's body pressed against her so tightly that Faith could feel the fall and rise of the Slayer's chest as she breathed, Faith's lip against the girl's forehead.

"Thank you," Kennedy said, flipping the book around so that it lay upside down on her lap, her place kept. "For being there for me. For everything."

Faith walked back ober to Kennedy, squeezed the younger Slayer's shoulders. "That's what being a Slayer means," she answered. "We look out for our own."


End file.
